bone yard

When Jimmy kissed me goodbye this morning, he whispered that we’d had snow. The temptation to peek was strong enough to get me out of my bed and the sight of him making footprints on the dawn snow was worth getting up for. I went straight back to bed, dozing off after a moment considering possible Dulux names: moonglow, coconut parfait, royal icing, marshmallow, faerie dust. When I finally got up for real, most of the neighbours’ cars had disappeared leaving a bone yard of tarmac dominoes. Almost enough to inspire poetry, but the mixed metaphors gave me heartburn.